Geneva Raney & Albert Charbonneau: War Letters, Part 1

 

Photo of Mom that Dad carried with him throughout the war , despite her being in pigtails. She'd put her finger on the undeveloped film. The dog must be Tag.

 My parents, Albert Joseph Charbonneau (1921-1994) and Geneva Elizabeth Raney (1925-2014) met at the wedding of Mary Agnes Raney and Omer "Red" Charbonneau, June 1, 1940. Mary was Mom's sister and Red was Dad's double first cousin (two LeBlanc sisters married two Charbonneau brothers). They didn't see each other again (I think) until three memorable days in early autumn, 1942. Originally a reservist in the Air National Guard, and activated on December 8, 1941, Dad had finished Aerial Gunnery School in Las Vegas and was home on leave, staying with his guardians, Ed and Mary Chapot, before going on to his next assignment which, it seemed, he couldn't reveal to her. It was Red who brought them together.  Below are excerpts from their letters, mostly family anecdotes, but with insight into the playfully romantic girl, who was my mother.

Corporal Albert Charbonneau, summer 1942, prior to Aerial Gunnery School in Las Vegas

Oct. 26, 1942
Dear Al . . . [expressing surprise that he wrote and reminiscing about their three evenings spent together before he left]. Do you know that the future president has arrived? Uh-huh! A beautiful little pink bundle of howls. Mary Agnes was rather disappointed. She wanted the second one to be a girl, but after she saw him she fell in love immediately, and there was no question about her wanting to exchange him. I don't blame her. He's quite a fella! [The baby was Richard Charbonneau.]

Now in Salina, Kansas, Dad was training at the 504th Bomb Squadron. "We haven't any airplanes as yet, I suppose they will be here in a week or two. . . The train ride was wonderful. I rode on the Pullman all the way. It took two nights and a day to get here from Salt Lake City."

Jeanne Raney's girlhood home on E. Nora, Spokane

Nov. 5, 1942
Dearest Al . . . I was a surprised to learn that you are in Kansas. Somehow I look on that state as a second home. Mary Agnes and I spent a whole summer there some four years ago, and even yet I haven't forgotten the hospitality the people there put out. They're really grand back there and someday I'd like to go back. [She never did.] But why should I bore you with my hopeless dreaming? . . . I had such a nice dream about you the nite before last. I was sorry when I woke up. You were so very near at the time and when I woke up you were gone. Do you know, Sergeant, you're a very nice person to dream about? The clock on the wall is reminding me that I have a standing date with the Sandman. Awfully sleepy. Goodnite, Al. Take good care of yourself and be very good . . .

Nov. 29, 1942
Dearest Al . . . When you talk of coming home for Christmas -- well I'm without words. I think it would be the most wonderful, the nicest, the most lovely and the most beautiful Christmas I could ever have. With you home, what more could I ask for? . . . How long a leave could you have? I wish it was forever. Goodness! Is that me saying that? I'll give away my secret if I'm not careful. . . Please, don't ever feel gloomy that I'm far away 'cause I'm not really. How can I be when my heart is tucked in your pocket . . .

Dec 18, 1942
My Dearest Jeanne . . . You say the most beautiful things in your letters. They give me startling ideas. Ideas that I would like to accomplish in the near future, I hope. But perhaps you would rather wait until the war is over. Personally, I wouldn't . Oh, what am I saying. I practically proposed to you then . . . I'll phone the moment I arrive in town. That should be on the 24th. Santa is going to be good to me this year. Is it alright to hope? . . . P.S. I don't know whether
I'm falling in love with you or your letters.

1942 Christmas card Dad sent Mom from Kansas, browning around edges. Satin bells and cloth bow.

And so, Dad came home for Christmas and proposed and Mom said yes. Ah, young love. Mom was just 17. Dad was 21.

Envelope of letter Dad wrote Jan. 2, 1943 on train back to Salina, KS.

In Mom's first letter of the New Year to Dad in early January 1943, after gushing about their time together and about missing him. ". . Baby Richard is terribly sick. He's in the hospital now and the house seems so empty without him. [Mary and Red were living with Grandma and Grandpa and Mom.] Every time I go by his crib I look and look and he's not there and then a great big ache comes inside of me and I want to go and bury my head and howl. Oh, darling, I'm so terribly worried. The doctor said it may be bronchitis and for a baby the size of Richard that's awful. [No antibiotics were yet available.] Mary is just sick and if she doesn't watch out she'll be in the hospital, too, so say an extra prayer, Al, that everything will be alright again.

Mary Agnes Raney graduation photo

Mary and I took down the Christmas tree Monday. It was quite a job, lots of fun, though. . . It made me think of those very precious nights when we'd sit in the swing with only the Christmas tree lights for company. [The tree must have been in the dining room because that's where they put the porch glider that Sarah Raney Hamilton now has] . . .

Aunt Laura Smith (1888-1955) and Grandma

. . My aunt Laura came from Addy [Washington], New Years Day. She's going to stay about three weeks. She's never married and she's just the typical old maid. Honestly, Al, I just sit and laugh, she's so funny. She doesn't know she is, though. She's straight and thin and has a long nose and the straightest mouth. Please, darling, don't think I'm making fun of her - I wouldn't stoop that low - but she is so funny. She sleeps with me and it's just like sleeping with an ironing board. I try cuddling up to her and she's so stiff and straight even in her sleep that it's impossible. Mary, Junice and I had so much fun Sunday shocking her. We were talking about the facts of life and she was horrified . . . And, oh, she disapproves of you. She was simply aghast when I told her I was engaged. She gave mother the dickens and then the feathers did fly, while I sat on the side lines chuckling and urging 'em on. Mother said - ahem! quote "Laura Smith! don't you dare say anything about that dear sweet boy or I'll disown you as my sister" and Aunt Laura primly glared at Mother and said, "Why Mary, you know that men are nothing but scatterbrains." And they went around and around. Honestly, I was just sick, I laughed so hard. Mother put up an admirable fight and I really think she won out because she had the last word. . .

I haven't told Dad that you asked me to marry you in June. I don't know what he'll say. I'm going to wait because you may change your mind. . . .

Frank Whitman Raney c1940

Dad arrived back in Salina 24 hours late, but "nothing was done about it," he wrote on Jan. 10. He was a sergeant, so probably got some leeway. "There isn't anything unusual going on around here. Anything that happens has probably happened before, such as one of our bombers crashed the other day, killing ten. But that's nothing new. . . [in a later letter he said they were averaging two plane crashes per month. Training was dangerous.]

Jan. 19, 1943
  . . . Baby Richard is home from the hospital. It's so good to have him back. . . Midyear exams this week. I'm looking forward to them with dread. . . I'm afraid because I've wasted a whole half a year in playing around and now I don't know anymore than I did in the beginning [of the school year] . . . Everyone sends their love and Mother, the siren, sends a very special kiss. Do you know what she said -- She said that she loved you as though you were one of her very own sons. She means it, too. . .

Aunt Laura came down with the flu shortly after she arrived and it appears to have lasted quite a while, for on Jan. 25, Mom wrote, . . Aunt Laura is really sick. I've been sleeping on the swing in the dining room (remember the swing?) and my neck will never get in place again. The nite before last I was deep in a dream of you when I heard the funniest noise. Without thinking I jumped up and ran into the bathroom and there Aunt Laura was on the floor in a faint. Honestly! My heart just stopped beating. It took me a half an hour to bring her out of it. After I got her to bed I felt like fainting. Whatta nite. . . Well, my Darling, twilight is creeping in on wings of darkness and another day is almost over. It is just one day nearer to that hallowed peace for which we are awaiting so eagerly. Until the very near future then . . .

Mom's Valentine to Dad, which didn't reach him in time because he'd been transferred to Topeka, KS

Feb. 17, 1943
My Darling . . . There are five other gals besides myself who have got up a club. All their men are in the service and three are overseas. It's a manless club but it's more fun. Last week we went roller -skating out at Cooks and I can't remember when I had so much fun . . .

Mom's No-Man's Club

March 12, 1943
My Darling . . . The No Man's Club is coming along swell. Last Saturday nite we threw a slumber party at one of the gal's house (Her parents were out of town, of course) and, Darling, if ever you want me to feel really good mix me a drink with gin in it. I went sky-high on only one glass. There were only girls there (Praise the Lord) and I can't remember when I had so much fun. In fact, after the second glass I couldn't remember anything. But never again! Never again!!!

Mom's yearbook Senior photo 1943

Dad had asked for Mom's ring size, but Mom told him to save his money. She didn't say it in so many words, but she really wasn't ready to settle down. She attended her senior prom with an old boyfriend. Dad sent her a ring, anyway, for her birthday. Years later, she said that it was Mary Agnes, who wrote to Dad, telling him he'd better send her sister an engagement ring if he wanted to keep her. The diamond was so small, Mom recalled, you practically needed a magnifying glass to see it. He bought her a much nicer diamond ring when he returned from the South Pacific in 1944.

Dad's birthday card to Mom, 1943. The illustration must have been wishful thinking.

March 21, 1943
My Darling -- Yesterday, on my birthday, my ring came. Oh, Darling -- in my whole eighteen years I never had a more wonderful present. . . Everyone thought it was so beautiful. Of course, Mother cried, but she cried because she was so happy for us. Dad didn't say anything but just held me real tight. I cried and laughed and cried some more, but only because I was so happy. . .

Mom wore the ring in public short time before putting it away. 

Mary and Red moved today to the apartment right above Junice and Denny's. It's the cutest little place. I couldn't help but wish that it belonged to us. I loved the kitchen most of all. It's just darling. Maybe we can have one like it some day. . . Having twelve tall splendid sons, that is, without a doubt, the main ambition in my life . . .

Mom's kiss-off letter, saying she didn't want to marry in June.

Dad pressed Mom to marry him in June, but in her letter of April 5th, she stalled, ". . I couldn't bear to hold you in my arms one night and have your leave me for God knows where, the next. I want my husband to be with me always - and you wouldn't be - you'd be fighting . . ."

Dad was disappointed and angry.

April 8, 1943
Darling, Received your letter today, and it didn't surprise me. I sort of had a feeling I wasn't quite lucky enough to have you for a wife. But I had hopes . . . So, naturally I delayed my going overseas by taking special duty here in Kansas . . . All I've been doing was instructional work in the air, and on the ground. . . As soon as I mail this letter, I'm going to my Commanding Officer, and request for overseas duty. I hardly think I should waste anymore time here in the States. . . . He signed it "Sincerely Yours, Al."

He did, however, send her an Easter card a few days later.

And Mom sent Dad another patriotic card, this one having a red, white and blue cloth ribbon.

 Mom wrote a conciliatory letter: It's spring and everything is gloriously alive - but I'm not happy because I have made you unhappy. I have, haven't I? . . . Darling, you didn't go to your commanding officer, did you? If you did - why did you do a crazy thing like that? I'll be frantic until I get your answer . . . Mother told Aunt Laura I got my ring. She said that she wasn't surprised. She could tell the real thing when she saw it.

They made up and Dad agreed it would be better to wait to after the war was over. He was bored with his duties at the air base outside Topeka. He had asked for overseas duty, but his commander told him he was needed on the base.  Dearest, everything around the air base is dead. I guess I'll be here for some time yet. Last Sunday we had open field day. The place was over-loaded with people from Topeka. We put on a display in Aerial Combat, and other small items, which seemed interesting to them. . .

 May 9, 1943
. . . Do you remember Al Maturne? He's home for a few days and Friday night he stopped over to Junice's and Denny's to see Mary and Red . . . Jackie [Jack Raney], who had been sitting over in the corner taking it all in, said in a very loud voice - "That isn't my Uncle Al!" After we had stopped laughing and Junice had said, "No, that isn't your Uncle Al," he again declared in the same loud voice, "That isn't even Al." Poor Al Maturne. He was so embarrassed . . . I think he [Jack] has a hero worship for you, darling. Every time I get a letter from you I tell him. And then the little monkey conveys the message to the whole neighborhood. After I had received your last letter, Junice heard him bragging to all the kids, "I got a letter from my Uncle Al. He's a soldier, too, and he's goin' to shoot Hitler." For three years old he's pretty doggone smart! . . .

Mom, Tuffy and Jack Raney c1943

. . Did I tell you that Paul joined the Merchant Marines? He's in New York going to school and he'll be through this week and after that -- nobody knows.

Grandma [Mary Smith Raney, 1882-1979] and Tuffy

Enclosed in Mom's letter was a short letter from Grandma to Dad, which Mom claimed she wasn't allowed to see.

My Dearest Al,
A short note to thank you for your very lovely Easter card [not the one above]. It was sweet and thoughtful of you. I have never told you how happy I am that I'm going to have you for a son. We couldn't be more pleased with Geneva's choice for a husband than if we had picked him ourselves. I won't tell you to be good to her. There is no need of that because we know that you will always treat her right. Just have the implicit faith and trust in her as she has in you. Goodbye dear and God bless you. Love, Mother

May 13, 1943
. . . I've sent your picture [graduation photo], but I forgot to tell you about those little fingerprints on the outside. uh-huh! the guilty culprit was Jackie. I had the picture on the table . . . and that little monkey climbed up and with a cookie disappearing down his throat and his hands still gooey from it, he picked up the picture and examined it thoroughly. The result was that there were some tiny little finger prints on the frame. So, darling, play blind and over-look them, will you? . . . Guess what! I'm learning to cook. Mother is convinced that she's not going to let your stomach be ruined by my cooking. What a staunch rooter you have in her. I made some biscuits - and - well, the dog ate them anyway. . . .

And then the letter from Dad. He'd been promoted to staff sergeant, but that wasn't all.

May 18, 1943
My Dearest Jeanne,
. . I'm being shipped out tomorrow morning . . . heading for overseas, and I expect to be there by June. I'm on one of those four engine Bombers, a B-24D; it's a new ship and flies swell. It looks like the picture at the top . . . it's called the Liberator. My position on the ship is an Engineer. I fire a waist gun, which is located between the wing & tail. By the time you get this letter I'll be on my way. We're heading for the west coast . . . wish me luck, Honey, I may need it. I can depend on everyone on the crew. They're all experienced men, thank God. . . I'm sure I'll come back to you . . .

Mom at her graduation, late May1943

He telephoned her from San Francisco . . . collect.  On May 26th she wrote: There are no words to describe the thrill when first the operator said - 'long distance.' My knees turned weak and my head began to whirl and honestly, I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. But the formality of the phone came between us. I know we both felt it. It was as if there were a stranger between us and we were both afraid to say what we really felt. I can never tell you of the stab of pain that shot through my heart when you told me that you were leaving. I didn't want to cry - but tears streamed down my cheeks anyway. Oh why does there have to be a war. Why can't they let us alone to live our live the way they should be lived . . . 

. . I'm sorry you don't like the picture. I don't care for them especially myself. It was raining horribly the day they were taken and naturally I didn't wear a hat. The results? We-ell, kinda looks as though I tried to look like Veronica Lake . . . It really doesn't matter, does it?

Mom's graduation photograph 1943

More to come. I'll end this with Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree with the Andrew Sisters. HERE